We Met During The Fire Storm

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Action and Adventure  |  House: Booksie Classic
War-stricken Japan falls and a warrior of the nation wishes to rise up against and take back what was stolen from him. Love stops him from the path of vengeance.

Submitted: June 02, 2015

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Submitted: June 02, 2015



“We Met During The Fire Storm”

At the near end of 1944 the birth of the fiercest bombing in human history began. They called it “The fire storm” because it left all of Tokyo engulfed in flames and wreckage. No one could have ever believed that humans can graze the fabrics of hell. It left the Earth itself scarred and caused the termination of the most beautiful city that existed in its time.

Amidst the chaos lay the bodies of half a million smouldered bodies and another million scorched empty vessels that lost everything on that agonizing night. Between the sights and sounds of people screaming and crying was a portrait so massive that even if the heavens lowered an eye, it will be blinded by the brightness of the flames.

On that day Tokyo was no more. Even God chose to forsake it and leave it grovelling, but crawling out of the rubble was a spirit clasped onto the flames of his family’s house. His actions spoke a thousand words of retaliation as he tried lifting a pillar, but his body could not defy the deathly reality that his beloved family is being eaten by the blaze. Unable to lift the chunk of debri, and no longer able to hear the moans of pain, he fell over with his face and arms burned. Completely exhausted, a figure feeble from starvation, he was able to look up to the ever dark sky that rained down fire and ember, like the cherry blossoms once did every Spring. The black clouds looked heavy as lead, but weighed less than the pain that shall eternally lay on his chest. And before giving into despair a saint wrapped in bandages and cloth came to sweep him from the ashes, and she poised him trying not to let go. She lugged him and inched slowly to the riverbed. When they arrived he woke up with numbness. He was enfolded with makeshift bandages made from the pieces of material that flowed down the blackened river.

He inspected around him looking for the one responsible for his subsistence, but when he found her all that he could see was a cadaver wrapped up like a mummy. The total destruction was summed up with one glance into her eyes, even without seeing what lies beneath the sheathes. Aware that he was revived to consciousness, she darted to provide him with water, and she advocated him to stay laying down and not move. Helpless to his disfigure, he had to comply because he had lost all his strength earlier. Being completely blistered, the liquid she used stung like acid, but he motioned his lips without a voice. After what seemed like a minute of pain, frustration and spasms, the words were uttered out in a whisper: “What is your name?” She replied with concern “It does not matter. With these burns I will be unrecognizable. Let’s just say we met during the fire storm?” Seeing that he could now manage on his own, she left him lay there with nothing to look at but the burning smoke clouds above that showered heated shards of wood that were once a part of the houses, palaces, and pagodas.

Months passed and the two never saw each other again. The boy was haunted with nightmares and was wondering in mystery every time he recalled those words she said. The night that brought him his misery brought him his love. He was obsessed by the fragility tenderness of the girl that saved his soul from his loneliness, and was desperate to know what her name was. He looked into his pocket mirror to glimpse at what she might have seen in him. He realized that his burns scarred him beyond recognition. He was now able to apprehend why she did not want to say her name. His face was not the same anymore; he was not “Hayate” anymore. He was nameless... All he had was “We met during the fire storm”. He made it his ambition to reap his vengeance against the Americans that stole away his home, face, and heart.

His furious soul was invested upon the sacrifice to put meaning into those last words. He became a trained pilot to join the Kamikaze division. Of all contributers he was only one in twelvehundered. It was August the 8th where he and other kamikaze were wished good will by the crowds, because on the 10th they would breathe their last breath so that Japan would breathe on. But just a day before that date, a massive earthquake shook the whole continent into quake and terror; he woke up from his last nightmare to think “Not again”. The second atomic bomb ruined Nagasaki. The government called for an unconditional surrender, and impeded any further military actions. All this had upset Hayate even more. Days passed and the hate he held deep in his heart could not be contained. On the 3rd of September, Japan, the mighty Empire Of The Rising Sun capitulated.

It was said that the Americans would come to occupy and rebuild Japan, and for Hayate this was the moment to put an end to his broken up life. He wanted to make his last public appearance and announcement. He spoke of his aches and the one thing that saved him until now. He turned around to face his coffin.  One of the last 200 jets Japan had, entrusted to his fury. But a single voice in the crowd was able to stop him, it said “Why do you do this to yourself?!” He motioned his lips and felt a familiar acidulous sting on his lips... “Its because I have no face. I am worth sacrificing”. She snapped “We met during the fire storm!” He acted benevolent and calm, though for the first time in a long time he was ecstatic with his love presenting herself behind him. Before turning around he questioned her “Would you like to watch the storm with me?” She knew what he meant by that, and she answered comely “Yes, let’s watch it together”. He was asking permission to turn around to see the face which saved him. After this confrontation he could feel that the love in his chest outweighed his agony, and he gave up his quest of vengeance, and before he could make any more regrets he asked for her name, she said “Hinata” The name that translates into “Towards the sun”.

Hayate could finally understand why she chose to hide her name that dreadful night, and he can openly admit that her scars were more beautiful in the sun than in the dark. The face of Hayate is what made “Hayate” and the face of Hinata is what made “Hinata” despite their scars and burns. Hayate and Hinata, both names combined mean “Suddenly towards the sun” and that was all they could see; each other.

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